I Forgot To Tell You
by LostInBlueSkies
Summary: **COMPLETE** An old friend from Sara and Grissom's comes back through a case..did she commit the crime she's being questioned about? Chapter nine added
1. Complicated

I Forgot To Tell You Working Title Chapter One by Marita Linde  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Well, this is what I get for writing this fic from end to beginning. Thanks: To Amber, for promoting this idea. To Mike, for listening to me talk and talk..  
  
The crime scene had an eerie feeling that day. She walked through the room, inspecting the walls and floor and pieces of furniture, all the time thinking that something was terribly wrong. There was something about the smell of the office, or the presence of someone...  
  
She turned to face the wall of employee photos, smiling faces of young journalists staring back at her. She scanned each one of them, searching for something to take away the nauseous feeling that had started in her stomach. She'd had a bad feeling about this investigation from the start. She was terrified of what she thought she might find.  
  
"Sara." A voice from behind her said, and she whirled around to look at Grissom. "Is everything OK?"  
  
She stared into his eyes for a few breathless seconds before replying with, "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine." He nodded shortly, and pointed to the ground. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear a word he was saying. Caught up in the sight of the crystal in his eyes glittering from the early morning light, he sounded mute to her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"  
  
He sighed. "I asked you if you could start dusting for fingerprints."  
  
"Oh. Yeah, OK, sure." She bent down to open her kit as he walked away, to where she didn't know.  
  
There it was again, that odd feeling. Something was in the atmosphere and it was messing up her concentration. She lifted her head to look at the ceiling, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. What was that smell? She remembered it from somewhere...  
  
"Sara." Grissom again. This time she didn't turn, but stayed squatted down where she was and spoke without seeing him.  
  
"Something doesn't feel right, Grissom." She said, and waited for his reply.  
  
"Sara, there's somebody I think you'd like to see waiting by the door." She stood instantly, and walked to where he was pointing. Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood rushed to her head and she couldn't hear or feel anything but that eerie wind that blew across the room. The figure in the doorway was slightly hunched, her dark hair falling across her face, making her form seem tragic. Even with the girl's tear- stained cheeks, Sara still recognized her, and gasped as an old friend's face was uncovered from behind the hair that had before hidden her features.  
  
"Michelle Lampman." Sara said simply, and reached over to hug her. "What are you doing here?" Michelle's form was stiff in her arms, her breathing warm and stale-feeling in her ear. Sara smelled the old familiar scent of gardenia oil while she was close to her.  
  
"I work here. Leah is-" She stopped herself. "Was one of my best friends." Sara nodded, then looked down at the ground once Michelle pulled herself away from her embrace. Pointing to the dead body lying on the ground behind a wooden desk, she shivered. "I can't believe this has happened."  
  
Sara thought to herself that this was a horrible way of reuniting herself with her old best friend. For a short second she forgot why they had been estranged from each other for so long. She wanted to brush Michelle's curly black hair away from her eyes like she had done so many times in the years before, but opted not to when she saw the devastation in her eyes.  
  
"God. It's so weird to see you after all this time." Michelle's eyes went up and down Sara's form. "You haven't changed a bit, you know that? Except your hair." Sara nodded. "It looks good."  
  
"Thanks." Sara's hands were bawled into fists and were pulled up tight against her sides. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was here to investigate a crime that Michelle was under suspicion for committing. "What happened, Michelle?"  
  
Michelle just shook her head, not moving her gaze from Sara's face. "I don't know. I just got here this morning at the beginning of shift, went to my desk, and found her lying dead behind it." Sara wanted to say that that hadn't been what she was talking about, but didn't. She just nodded and watched Brass make a few notes, and wondered fleetingly when he had arrived by her side. He looked to her to see if it was OK that he start the questioning.  
  
Sara heard herself mumble, "I've got to go." She turned to go back to the crime scene, but felt a cold finger on her arm.  
  
"Sara, wait. Let's go out for a coffee or something, afterwards." Michelle suggested, watching the hope in her old friend's eyes envelope her entire body.  
  
"OK. I'd like that." Nodding, she went back to her work.  
  
"Michelle Lampman, after all these years.." Gil was contemplating to himself when Sara walked up and eyed him curiously.  
  
"So you remember her?" He nodded. "She was your best student."  
  
"No, you were my best student. She didn't even want to be there." Grissom reminded her, swirling the fingerprint brush around the back of a chair.  
  
"She took the class because I didn't want to go alone." Sara reminded herself, looking at the ceiling lights in a new kind of fascination. Grissom nodded and continued with his work. "Are you going to go talk to her?" She asked. "You haven't seen her in..well, five years."  
  
He stared at the carpet. "Maybe." At her exasperated look he said, "She's being questioned right now, Sara."  
  
"We're going out for coffee afterwards, did you want to come?" She didn't know why she had asked him. A friend she hadn't spoken to in years wanted to go out with her so they could catch up on lost memories, on lost best friend things, possibly try and talk about why they split up in the first place, and she was inviting her boss.  
  
"Do you and Michelle really want to go out with your old college professor?" He looked shy, then, so she smiled.  
  
"Well, you always were our favourite." 


	2. Just Another Girl

I'm finally done this chapter! Yay for me! Oh, and I updated the thank you's! Take note Z-Heidi, Tash, Meg, etc. G  
  
I Forgot To Tell You Chapter Three  
  
Author's notes: OK, so I wrote this chapter while in my tent, so very sunburnt. I was listening to Sarah McLachlan's "Surfacing" and so I am very sure that I owe her this entire fan fic. Let's all bless her brilliance. Thanks: Allison, you totally rock and make me laugh so hard and smile everyday. Bless you. :) Tash, you're a great beta and a funky friend, an all around "nice girl". Thanks for all your help! Z-Heidi, thank you so much for helping me with this chapter and all the other betaing stuff you've done in the past. You're such an awesome Zamboni Lover! Thanks for the "domestic violence" comment. And thanks for serenading me with Sponge Bob Square Pants and Veggie Tales quotes! Megster(oonibooni), thank you soo much for being such an awesome beta and an even more awesome friend. You totally rule, girl! I don't know where I'd be without you! Last, but not least, thanks to *coughs* (in alphabetical order) Amber, Andi, Devanie and Laura for the "corn chips", "Grank", "pizza arriving at 9:22", "squid legs.. a.k.a running to LA to beat Laura" and "android" chats. You guys rule at making me laugh my butt off.  
  
  
  
"Sara?" Her back was turned from the doorway at which he stood and called her name. She didn't move to change position, not even when he began to move closer to her. "Sara?"  
  
He was standing so close to her she could feel his breath on the exposed skin of her neck. His hand grasped the back of her chair as he leaned forward and whispered, "Are you asleep?"  
  
She turned slowly to acknowledge his existence and with a quick glance took in his appearance. Blue t-shirt, black pants. "Hey Grissom." The lightness in her voice came out sounding fake and forced, and she winced.  
  
"Hey." His voice shook with an unrecognizable emotion while his eyes told her he knew something was the matter. "What's wrong?" He seemed almost afraid to ask.  
  
"Nothing. Just lost in thought." He nodded, a frown still creasing his brow. "What have you found?" She could tell by the expression on his face that something really good or really bad had happened with the case.  
  
He gestured for her to follow him as he walked out of the break room. "I searched for Michelle on the system. She's a model citizen except for a couple of traffic tickets. There is one interesting fact about her that I found out, though." They were standing by the computer now, and Grissom had sat down on the chair in front of it and had begun to type.  
  
"Which would be?" Sara leaned forward far enough that her shoulder rubbed against his cheek, which in turn caused shivers to run up her spine. She eyed the computer screen suspiciously. He turned to face her, his eyes searching her face frantically for something.  
  
Smiling, he breathed, "She's married." An eyebrow raising from Sara prompted him to continue. "A Harry Lot. He's probably one of the Police Force's greatest enemies. He's been arrested several times for robbery, drunk driving and.." Grissom's features changed from interest to angry irritation. "Domestic violence."  
  
Sara ducked her head, brushing the top of it against the edge of his shoulder. "He beats her?"  
  
"Apparently." He turned back to the computer, sighing. "And guess where he works?" Sara only shrugged, the tears tickling the corners of her eyes. Grissom saw the pain in her face and groaned inwardly. "He writes the sports section of the newspaper that Michelle works for." A few clicks of the mouse and he read on. "He's been employed at the newspaper for five years now."  
  
Sara sighed. "We're going to have to meet with this guy." Grissom nodded.  
  
"We will. Tomorrow. Right now I suggest you go home and get some rest." His eyes told her how worried he really was, so she complied and turned toward the door. Her easy agreement only troubled him more. Sara hardly ever just left work, but when she did, something was really bothering her. Grissom knew this, and wondered what it was she was keeping from him.  
  
As Sara made her way down the hall and out into the parking lot, her mind wandered and landed on the memory that had taken her attention before.  
  
*******  
  
It was only halfway through the term, but already Sara was in love with entomology. She listened carefully every class while Dr. Grissom explained the effects of insects on this world, took notes, and asked questions as much as she possibly could.  
  
Michelle, a blue-eyed black-haired twenty year-old, was younger than Sara and much less interested in bugs. She preferred to spend her time staring at the teacher and flirting with boys in her classes, activities that mostly made Sara roll her eyes and sigh.  
  
"Dr. Grissom?" Sara walked up to the older man after class like she did every day and waited for him to acknowledge her presence with his usual half smile.  
  
He looked up, smirked, and asked her what he could do for her. A million suggestions ran through her mind, but she shook her head free of them, blushing a bit at her mind's forwardness. "I was wondering about page 32."  
  
He nodded. "I thought that might be why you were here." He leaned forward to point to some text and the smell of his aftershave assaulted her. The door suddenly burst open and knocked her out of her reverie. There stood the school dean.  
  
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Grissom, but we've got that lecture in five minutes..." Grissom nodded, waited for the dean to leave, and turned back to his pupil.  
  
"We'll have to continue this later. Come to my office around four." He started to leave, then stopped, seeming to think of something. "And don't bother knocking. I never seem to hear."  
  
*******  
  
"The coroner's log says that Leah Denker was stabbed three times in the abdomen and once in the heart, which was the cause of death. It also says that no fibers, hairs or DNA were found on the body. Grissom and Sara didn't find anything like that at the crime scene, either." Nick threw his hands up in the air and sighed, staring at Catherine in frustration. "We're at a dead end."  
  
Catherine shook her head. "Not exactly. Gris and Sara are meeting the suspect's husband tomorrow. He worked with Leah and has a criminal record."  
  
"It's so obvious that Michelle did it. I mean, she looks guilty, the evidence is basically saying she's guilty." He hesitated for a second before turning so their faces were inches apart, his eyes wide. "She's guilty."  
  
Catherine rose an eyebrow and moved away from him. "Don't jump the gun, Nicky." She brushed a hair from her eyes. "I know what you're implying, but they would never do that. Partiality is not an option in this profession. They both know that, especially Grissom. If Michelle is guilty, she will be convicted, best friend, former student, or not."  
  
Embarrassed, Nick's cheeks blushed slightly before he rose his head in defiance. "That's not what I was implying." Catherine rolled her eyes and started down the hall toward the parking lot.  
  
"Shift's over, Nicky. Take a load off." He sighed and crossed his arms, watching her back as she moved farther away from him.  
  
  
  
Grissom dropped his keys on the shelf beside his door as he entered his townhouse. For the first time since before he could remember, the interior of his home seemed, to him, cold and empty. Sighing, he walked into the kitchen and took an aspirin to ease his pounding head. He then dropped himself on his sofa and prepared for a long, somewhat satisfying nap.  
  
The phone rang, breaking his slumber. He reached for the receiver, rubbing his temples and frowning, wondering who could be calling at this hour. "Grissom," he greeted solemnly, and listened carefully to the heavy breathing on the other end of the line.  
  
"Hey, it's Sara. Sorry for calling so late or-" she hesitated, "...or so early, but I really need someone to talk to and you were the only one I could think of who would be awake." She sounded upset and was. Tears were streaming down her face, tears Grissom couldn't see, but could hear and feel.  
  
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? What's happened?" Suddenly he was wide awake and reaching for his jacket just in case, but her words calmed him down a little.  
  
"Nothing's happened. Don't freak out." He sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "It's just... I was just thinking about Michelle. And how her husband beat her. And how she didn't even tell us she had a husband, or a little baby girl."  
  
"She has a child?" He could hear her nod.  
  
"I checked her out some more on the internet. All I did was search for her name and her homepage popped up. She's got pictures up and stuff." The tears broke free again, and he could hear her sobs painfully well. "She seems so happy."  
  
"But she's not." He sighed, rubbing his forehead some more. "Is that what's bothering you?"  
  
She didn't answer. "She could have been this unhappy all through college and I wouldn't have even known it. She puts up a very good facade, Grissom." A shaky breath of air flowed through the telephone. "A very, very good facade."  
  
Come on, R&R!!! 


	3. I Don't Want You To Go

I Forgot To Tell You  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Thanks: Thanks goes to Heidi, Meg, Tash, and Allison (a.k.a the Reverend) for reading this through before I posted it and giving it so much character. G Thanks also to the G/S list for the nice reviews. Oh, and thanks to all the wonderful authors who write such wonderful fan fiction. I think especially here of Jess ("Title Pending"), because if I hadn't read that fic I don't think I'd be writing this right now. Inspirations rock!  
Disclaimers: Um, I don't CSI or the characters or whatever. Blah.   
  
Sara knew what she was doing was against some cardinal rule in the CSI handbook, a fact that made her queasy and exhilarated at the same time. She had never disobeyed. Never. And so when she stepped up to Michelle's doorway and raised a shaking hand to knock, her eyes kept dashing to either side of her in a frenzied attempt to ensure the coast was clear.  
  
The door was answered almost immediately by Michelle, who stood in front of Sara with a surprised expression on her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her dirty clothes and messy hair indicating she was in the middle of something.  
  
"I want to talk to you," Sara answered, her eyes darting across the street as a car flew past. "Can I come in?"   
  
"Of course." Michelle backed away, allowing Sara to enter the house. "Sorry about the way I look, I was doing a little cleaning. Follow me into the kitchen and I'll get you some coffee."  
  
The smell of Pine-Sol filled the space of the small home, sun cascading through several open windows as Sara entered the tiny room. "Your house is nice," she offered, sitting down on a chair in front of the table.Michelle grinned, pouring coffee into a white mug.   
  
"Thanks." She handed it to Sara and glanced at her questioningly. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"I know about Harry getting arrested for hitting you. I also know about the baby, Katelyn." Michelle ducked her head and stared at the surface of the table.   
  
"How did you find out?"  
  
"Why are you still with him, Michelle?" Sara asked suddenly, not bothering to answer her question. The smooth clean wood of the table felt hot under her hand as she leaned forward to get a better look at her old friend's face.  
  
"It was just one time," Michelle explained, hugging herself while she attempted to keep the emotion in her voice from reaching her eyes. "He was mad at me for spending too much money on baby clothes and I wasn't being reasonable. I kept interrupting him and yelling at him and accusing him of things. So naturally, he just kept getting more angry." Finally she looked up into Sara's face, searching for understanding. All she found was sympathy, but that wasn't what she wanted.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Michelle," Sara croaked, desperately trying not to cry. Michelle continued.  
  
"Yes, yes it was. Because I was being a bitch, and all he wanted to do was talk about it. He had every reason to be angry. And I just kept yelling, and yelling. So finally he slapped me. No one would have found out if I hadn't yelled so loud that the neighbours called the cops."  
  
Sara shook her head, fingering the loop on her coffee mug while she searched for something to say.  
  
"But he hasn't done it since. He's really trying to turn his life around. I mean, he isn't drinking as much anymore, and he's great with Katelyn..." She trailed off, staring Sara in the eyes. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, Sara. I don't need anyone's sympathy."  
  
"Why is it that you can't see he's a bastard?" It wasn't what she meant to say, but she blurted it out anyway and watched as Michelle's eyes widened.   
  
"He's my husband, Sara. You can't just come in here and start calling my husband names like that." Her breathing was shallow now, she was angry.  
  
"It wasn't just once, was it? How many times has he hit you?" Sara's voice was soft, understanding. She was trying to be gentle with the subject but at the same time she was aware that she had crossed the line. Their eyes met for a split second before Michelle spoke in a low, wavering voice.  
  
"Please leave." She got up to collect Sara's half-full mug, telling her silently that she was no longer welcome. Sara got up from her chair and moved slowly to the door, but before the handle had been turned completely she swivelled around to face Michelle's back.  
  
"That wasn't all I wanted to talk about," she said, watching as Michelle's form stiffened at the words.  
  
"Maybe some other time," she replied, still not looking at Sara as she washed out the mug. "Katelyn will need to be fed soon."  
  
"Why did you do it, Michelle?" Her words were simple, but she knew she was understood. The young mother sighed before turning around and facing Sara with sad, tired eyes.  
  
"I didn't know you loved him, Sara." She shook her head. "And... so many other reasons. But now is not the time..." Sara nodded, turned toward the door, and left.  
  
********  
  
Sara walked to the door of Dr. Grissom's office and opened it, glancing inside to see the doctor himself pouring over a few lesson plans. He hadn't heard her come in. She cleared her throat and watched as he raised his eyes and took in her appearance.  
  
"Sara. Glad you could make it." He smiled and pointed to the chair beside him. "Sit down, please." She did so, the nervousness in her stomach building up as his scent nearly knocked her off her feet.  
  
"Page 32, right?" he asked her, turning his head so their faces were only inches apart. She nodded shortly, swallowing in a vain attempt to compose herself. "Now, what was it you had a question about?"  
  
She searched her mind for the answer. Horrified, she feared she might have forgotten it. "Umm..." Her mind clicked. "I don't understand this whole larvae thing." She pointed to the picture and noted that her nails needed to be repainted.   
  
He explained it to her and she listened carefully, not wanting to let her obvious attraction to him get in the way of her studies. She couldn't blame herself, though. He was tall, thin, had brown curly hair and blue eyes that pierced her soul. She couldn't get over his eyes...  
  
"Anything else?" he asked when he was done. She shook her head, smiled slightly and had started to get up out of her chair when she felt his warm hand on her elbow. "Sara..."  
  
Her heart was beating so fast and so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. Her mind raced at all the possibilities of what he would say next.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you... I think you're a brilliant student and someday you're going to make a wonderful forensic scientist. If I ever get the pleasure of working with you after you're done with your schooling than I am sure I will be very, very pleased."  
  
"Thanks." The word almost caught in her throat. She got up to leave and was at the door when she muttered, "Goodbye, Dr. Grissom."  
  
"Please," he said. "Just call me Grissom."  
  
**********  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I went over to see her." Sara stared at him with fear in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She was standing in the doorway of his office, looking down at his form slouched over the desk. The swinging of his office chair had ceased as soon as she'd told him what she had done. "I wanted to talk to her about Harry. I know it was wrong, and I'm sorry," she apologized again, waiting for him to speak.  
  
"I would never expect this out of you, Sara." His voice was cold, expressionless, and she felt like she had instantly become a suspect in one of his cases. "You could have been killed. For all you know Michelle's a murderer."  
  
"Don't treat me like someone you're interrogating, Grissom. Don't do that. Not now." She still hadn't moved from the doorway. Her legs were crossed slightly, showing off skin where the slit in her skirt opened. She hadn't expected him to be happy about what she'd done, but she wasn't ready for him to start treating her like she wasn't special to him.  
  
He sighed, motioning for her to come inside his office and sit down. As she was doing so, he moved to close the door. He then sat across from her and stared her in the face. "I'm afraid that you're getting too personally involved, Sara." She knew he would say that.  
  
"You know very well that I would never let my feelings get in the way of the evidence," She reasoned, defiance etching her face.   
  
"I do," He said, then took her hand in his. "But I'm worried that this is taking too much out of you." She eyed his fingers on hers and wondered about the giant shock of electricity that coursed through her when he squeezed her hand.  
  
"Michelle said she didn't know I loved him." Her eyes met his in an effort to see what he was feeling, if her words had any affect on him whatsoever. He sighed and shook his head.   
  
"She didn't. But neither did he."  
  



	4. Love Is a Masterpiece

I Forgot To Tell You  
Chapter Five  
  
  
Thanks: Thanks go, as always, to my wonderful and amazing betas. In alphabetical order: Allison, Amber, Meg, Tash, and Z-Heidi. I don't know where I'd be without any of you! You guys rock and make every day worth living! I love each and every one of you, and not just cause you give my fics so much character!  
Notes: I don't know exactly how many chapters there's going to be in this story, but I can tell you that they're going to come a lot slower now, because I've started school and am really busy with homework and stuff. But I promise to finish it.  
Disclaimers: Blah, blah, blah. Pffftttt!  
  
  
  
Sara arrived at work the next day with a knot in her stomach. The more steps she took and the farther she got into the lab, the larger it grew. She had been cautious that morning to ensure her outfit was as unflattering as possible, so when she saw Grissom's eyebrows raise as she hung her coat up in her locker, she wasn't surprised.  
  
"Sara, you look..." He trailed off, his eyes sweeping up and down her form, searching for the right word.  
  
"Hideous?" she suggested, slamming her locker shut and turning to face him. His forehead crinkled.  
  
"No, I was going to say great. That sweater matches your eyes."   
  
She took a step backwards and tried not to let the shock show on her face. "Thanks..." she stuttered, smoothing her hair down with her left hand.  
  
"Any reason you're dressed for winter in the middle of August?" he asked, smirking a little when she scowled.  
  
"No." She turned on her heel, but stopped when he began to speak in a slow voice.  
  
"It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that we're interrogating Harry Lot tonight, would it?"   
  
She faced him again, her eyes watching his in an attempt to read his thoughts. His eyebrows were raised, his mouth betraying the tiniest hint of both worry and a smile. Sara looked down at her shoes, thankful she was used to his unnerving stare. Yes, it would." She could never lie to him. She had tried, but she had found out early on it was nearly impossible. "He freaks me out. Makes me uncomfortable."  
  
"Sara, you've never even met him," he reasoned, putting a hand on the heavy cotton of her sweatshirt where it covered her arm.   
  
"I don't have to, Grissom." Her eyes met his face again, and for a brief second she could have sworn she saw something new in his eyes that she had never seen there before.   
  
He nodded, took a step towards the door and said, "All right. We should get going." She forced a fake smile. "He's waiting."  
  
"Oh. Okay." She looped her arm through his, wanting to be protected in some way but not knowing why, and chided herself for being so nervous.  
  
"Sara..." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "He can't hurt you, you know." He wanted to say something more, something like 'because I'm here', but the words caught in his throat when she threw him a dazzling smile and leaned closer to him.  
  
She knew what he was trying to say. That he wouldn't let anything happen to her when it was in his control, and the thought made her grin. "I know, Grissom," she said, purposely moving her mouth closer to his neck. "I know."  
  
  
*******  
  
Sara was aware that she wasn't getting anywhere with Dr. Grissom. Either she was worse than she thought at sending out signals or the man was completely blind. To preserve her dignity she chose to go with the latter and opted to make her flirtations more obvious.   
  
"Maybe he realizes that I'm interested but doesn't want to get involved with a student..." she thought to herself one day in her dorm room, working on some entomology homework. Michelle had gone out to get a bite to eat for an early dinner about two hours ago but hadn't come back.  
  
Before she could think too much about it, Sara grabbed her textbook and walked out to her car. Heart thumping, she drove over to the building. She walked down the hallway until she reached the door that had his name on it. His office. She put a hand on the doorknob and began to muster the strength to turn it...  
  
*****  
  
  
  
The interrogation was exactly what Sara expected. Harry Lot was a shifty, loud-voiced man with skin darkened by the Nevada sun and eyes that dared you not to believe what he told you.  
  
Sara took the dare. She didn't believe a word he said. He fumbled with the collar on his jacket as he answered their questions, smiling devilishly when Brass growled, "Cut the crap, Lot, and tell us the truth."  
  
"You've got nothing to prove that I did this," he said, pushing himself out of his chair by putting his hands on the table. "Hell, there's more evidence against Michelle then there is against me."  
  
Sara slanted her eyes at him, and when she looked over at Grissom she saw he was doing the same. "Fine, you're free to go," he said, his expression not changing. Once Harry had left the room, he turned to Sara and said, "You think we can get a warrant to search his house?"  
  
"I sure as hell hope so," Sara grumbled. "That guy is guilty, I just know it. And I want to be able to prove it." Grissom put a hand on her shoulder, but she stood almost instantly and walked to the door. "I'm going to get something to eat. I'll be back in an hour or so."  
  
He watched her back as she quickly walked out of the room.  
  
  
  



	5. Room With a View

  
I Forgot To Tell You  
Chapter Six  
  
  
Thanks:   
Author's Notes: This long chapter is to make up for the shorter, much crappier fifth chapter. Hope you all enjoy. Oh, and don't stop reading because of the outcome of this chapter!! I swear it all gets cleared up in the next two or three or four chapters. However many there's going to be.  
Disclaimers: Unnecessary.  
  
  
  
Warrick walked into the break room and poured himself a cup of coffee, turning when he heard Sara clear her throat behind him. "What's up?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Nothing much."  
  
He held the coffee cup to his lips and looked at her expectantly.   
  
"You've got a nice bounce to your step tonight, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" she asked.   
  
He smiled. "Ask me if I'm free this weekend." Sara rolled her eyes but smirked, fiddling with the pen in her hand.   
  
"Hot date, huh?" she asked.   
  
He nodded slowly, then seemed to notice her appearance for the first time. He frowned. "You don't look so good." He poured her some coffee and watched her refuse it politely. "Gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asked. She shook her head. "Come on, I shared."  
  
"No thanks, Warrick," she said, pushing herself out of the chair she was sitting in and attempting to smile to make him think she was okay. "Catch you later, alright? I've got work to do."  
  
All he could do was nod as she left the room. He sighed as soon as he was sure she was gone, muttering to himself as he opened the newspaper. Grissom strode in not two minutes later, grabbing a mug from the shelf and sniffing the coffee a little to make sure it wasn't old.  
  
"It's fine." Warrick's voice was loud, disrupting.  
  
"OK," was all Grissom said before taking a seat beside him. "What are you reading?" he asked.  
  
Warrick grunted. "The usual. Murder, corruption, robbery..." He stopped. "Did you see Sara?" he asked, folding the paper back up when he realized Nick had stolen the Sports section.   
  
"No, I haven't, actually," Grissom said, eyeing the front page with interest.  
  
"Whatever you did this time, it must have been pretty bad. She looks like hell." Off his supervisor's surprised expression, Warrick drained the rest of his coffee and exhaled loudly. "Well, I'm off to find Catherine. I promised her I'd take her out for dinner."  
  
He exited the room then, and Grissom was left alone with a hot cup of coffee and a very large sense of confusion.  
  
  
Sara walked down the hallway on her way to the lab and drifted off into that familiar memory, leaving off where she had ended the night before.  
  
*****  
  
Her hand was shaking as she grasped the cold steel of the doorknob, and she tried desperately to regulate her breathing when she heard it coming out in quick, breathy gasps. She heard sounds from inside. He wasn't alone. This thought made her even more disturbed, even more curious. Pushing her hair away from her face, she turned the knob, pulled the door open, and stared at the sight inside his office.  
  
She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, she couldn't even look. She closed her eyes and willed it all away.   
  
Michelle was there, in his office. Sitting on the sofa with him. Pressing herself against him. He had this look of horror on his face, and Sara knew it wasn't just because she had walked in. His hand was on Michelle's upper arm, trying to push her away. They both stared at Sara in unbelieving shock. Dr. Grissom stood.  
  
"Sara, wait. This isn't how it looks."   
  
She shook her head, tears of shock spilling out the sides of her eyes. "I... I have to go." And she spun around, through the still-open door, down the hallway. Then she was in the parking lot, trying to remember where she had parked her car. She heard a voice from behind her, loud and pleading, begging her to stop.  
  
"Sara! Sara, wait!" He was yelling, not caring if the rest of the parking lot heard him. She had never witnessed him raising his voice. She wasn't sure if she liked it. Turning, she observed the sight of him standing in the dark, shoulders rising and falling, curly hair a mess, eyes filled with fear. "Please, just let me explain."  
  
"You don't have to explain anything, Grissom," she said, taking the liberty of using only his last name.   
  
"Yes I do," he said. His voice shook. "I was trying to get her off of me, Sara. She came in for help with homework. Well, that's what she said. It was unexpected and I didn't want her there. She pushed herself against me. I was in the middle of asking her politely to leave when you walked in." He moved a little closer to her and exhaled. "I am so, so sorry."  
  
"What do you have to be sorry about?" she asked him, shrugging like his story hadn't effected her at all. "It's not like we're a couple, or dating or anything."  
  
"We could be," he said, though he didn't know why. Then he shook his head. "No, no, we couldn't. It would never work. You're right, I shouldn't be apologizing, it's just..." he hesitated. "I wanted you to know what happened, that's all."  
  
She nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show in her face. "Yeah, OK. No problem." She turned back to her car and opened the door, knowing he was still watching her. "Goodbye, Dr. Grissom."  
  
"Goodbye, Sara."  
  
She dropped the class that night. It wasn't required for her major anyways, and she was sure she couldn't handle going everyday, knowing he didn't love her the way she loved him, knowing she could never have him to herself. Michelle would always be there.  
  
She moved into an apartment alone, leaving Michelle with the dorm. She didn't ask any questions, just nodded when Sara told her she was moving out. They hadn't talked about that night yet and Sara had no intention of ever doing so. As far as she could tell, Michelle knew that she was completely pissed at her and would never venture into the conversation herself.   
  
She slipped into routine and got used to never seeing Michelle, or Dr. Grissom. She built a life for herself and ignored the voice in the back of her head that said it was really no life at all.  
  
******  
  
  
"Sara." She heard her name, but didn't turn. She'd know that voice anywhere. She opted to stay seated in her office chair, staring at her computer screen, rather than pick up the phone. "Sara, are you home? It's Grissom. If you're home, please pick up... OK, well, I guess you're not."  
  
She sighed, swivelled her chair around, and picked up the receiver. "Hey Grissom."  
  
"Hey," he said, trying to sound light. "I was afraid you weren't there."  
  
"Yeah, I didn't pick up right away. Sorry, I was just... thinking." She decided not to tell him what about. Though she didn't know exactly why he had called, she was sure it had something to do with work, and she wasn't in the mood for that. "What's up?"  
  
She heard him swallow. "I... uhh... I was calling to see how you were. You seemed... distant today at work." He wasn't nervous, just trying to choose his words carefully. Darting around something offensive.  
  
"Warrick made you call me, didn't he?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair, not bothering to suppress the huge grin that had spread itself across her face.  
  
"He suggested it, but he doesn't make me do anything." A comfortable silence followed, that which Sara broke with the clearing of her throat.  
  
"I'm fine, Grissom. Just a little..." She hesitated. She didn't want to alarm him, but she couldn't lie to him, either. "I'm not feeling very good, is all."  
  
"Is it the flu?" he asked. "It's going around."   
  
"I'm not sure." OK, so that was a lie. She was very sure it wasn't the flu. "I'm just a little down, a little... groggy." Now she was just making stuff up.  
  
"I'm coming over," he said quickly, and she could picture him running around his apartment looking for his jacket. "Do you like chicken noodle-" Oops. "Do you like soup?"  
  
"Sure. But no meatballs."  
  
"No meatballs."  
  
  
  
He arrived in less than twenty minutes, sporting a navy blue jacket and a black baseball cap. He looked so different standing in her kitchen than he had ever looked at the lab. He held out the thermos towards her and attempted a full smile. "Soup -no meatballs- as requested."  
  
She smiled back and took it from him, getting herself comfortable on her sofa. "So..." she trailed off, not wanting to get into the subject of work, but knowing it was bound to surface sometime. "He was sleeping with Leah."  
  
"Yeah," Grissom said, his eyes sparkling apologetically. "He was. Cheating on Michelle and beating her." He sat on the sofa beside her and watched as her face grew more and more full of anger.  
  
"Bastard," was all she could say. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again. "But other than that, you didn't find anything in his house? Just the stains on his sheets?" She watched him nod. "Damn. No murder weapon, no fingerprints left behind at the crime scene. Nothing."  
  
"I have a feeling Michelle knows more than she's letting on," he said, unscrewing the cap of the thermos and handing it to her. "But she's not going to say anything, at least not to me. Or anyone, really, if we interrogate her."  
  
Sara moved her face closer to his and raised her eyebrows. "Are you suggesting I ask her in a private setting?" When he shrugged, she sighed. "What makes you think she'd tell me anything?"  
  
"You've already been to her house, Sara." Ouch.  
  
"Grissom, we're not allowed to do that."  
  
"Well, technically..."  
  
"No, no!" She raised a hand in front of his face and squeezed her eyes shut. "Is that what this was all about? You come over here, bring me soup, act all worried about my condition, butter me up... all so you can use me for the case?"  
  
He shook his head almost immediately. "Sara, that was not what this was all about." He meant it, she knew that. "I really am worried about you. I came here because I wanted to make sure you were alright. And I would never, ever use you."  
  
She stared him straight in the face, her eyes level with his, wanting to know what they would tell her. "Why is that?" She didn't know why she had asked him.  
  
He said nothing, just looked at her and breathed in and out. She sighed again, taking a sip of the soup, knowing he wouldn't tell her. Not now, anyway.   
  
"Sara," he started. "A young woman is dead because this creep walks the streets everyday. Another woman is being abused. A woman with a baby. A woman who just happens to admire you more than anyone else."  
  
"If she admired me so much, then why the hell did she try to take you away from me?"  
  
He blinked. Once, twice. "I don't know," he said. "I wish I did... but I don't."  
  
TBC, please R&R!  



	6. Not Enough To Stay

I Forgot To Tell You Chapter Seven  
  
Thanks: Thank you sooooooooo much to all my wonderful betas! I get tired mentioning all your names, but you know who you are! I love you!! Author's notes: So it looks like this is going to round out to around ten chapters, although I could be wrong. The next four chapters, then, will be the most eventful. So hang in there, we're in for a wild ride. Or a somewhat wild ride. Or whatever.  
  
  
  
He was still there with her three hours later. The small space of the apartment was starting to suffocate her, the walls felt like they were caving in. She stood from her spot on the couch for what was probably the third time in ten minutes and paced the floor of the kitchen.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asked, staring at her as she ran her fingers through her hair.  
  
"No. Just..." She sighed. "I'm feeling a little bit cooped up in here, is all." She didn't want to tell him that she sometimes got claustrophobic, that her tiny apartment made her sweaty and short of breath on nights when she couldn't think of anything better to do than to sit around and watch TV.  
  
He stood and walked over to her, placing a hand on either of her shoulders. "I'd suggest we go outside, but it's been pouring all afternoon." He looked at her, concern etching his face. "Just breathe. Do you want to walk up and down the hallway? Or, we could go outside, take an umbrella, maybe?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, no. I'll be fine. Just..." He was staring her right in the eyes and she felt her knees getting weak.  
  
"Breathe..." he said, pressing down harder on her shoulders. His fingers lightly massaged the exposed skin beside the straps of her tank top.  
  
"Just keep doing that," she finished, closing her eyes and exhaling deeply in relaxation. "That feels really good." He smiled slightly and leaned in closer, staring at her face in absolute fascination.  
  
She could feel his heart beating underneath where her hand lay, and his breath on her face let her know he was closer. She opened her eyes, noticing that he had stopped stroking her shoulder with his index finger, and smiled.  
  
"Feel better?" he asked, pulling her body against his.  
  
She just murmured softly and watched as his face came closer to hers, his eyes widened and he leaned into her. The haze that always surrounded him was getting bigger now, and she was getting that feeling down in her chest like she always did when he came too close. A deep burning down near her ribs, right in the center of them. It didn't exactly hurt, it didn't exactly feel good, but it was there, nonetheless, and he was the reason why.  
  
They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Sara jumped, Grissom stayed completely still. "Let it ring," he said, running his fingers through her hair. She sighed.  
  
"No, no, I have to get this." She really did have to get it. No one ever called her besides Grissom unless it was an emergency. She wondered what could be wrong as she made her way to the corner of the room. None of her colleagues had gotten hurt at a crime scene, because it was only twelve noon. Maybe someone from the day shift? She picked up the phone and forgot to clear her throat, allowing a squeaky, barely audible voice to come out. "Hello?"  
  
"Sara?" the voice asked. She remembered that voice.  
  
"Yeah, yeah it's me." She shifted her eyes over to where Grissom was standing, leaning against the couch effortlessly, watching her. "What's wrong, Michelle?" She really didn't want to talk to her right now, not when she and Grissom had been so close...  
  
"Nothing. Well, something." For the first time Sara noticed Michelle's voice was thick with emotion or something else, making it sound gravelly. "I...I have some information about the case." She started crying.  
  
"What?! Oh, OK." Sara tried her best to compose herself. "Um, alright. What is it?" She sat down in the chair beside where she was standing and ran a hand over her face.  
  
"I know where the knife is, I know where Harry stashed it." She was still crying. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise me you're going to process the evidence as quickly as possible. He's planning on running tomorrow morning."  
  
"You're kidding me."  
  
"No. He's afraid you'll get him for this, so he's running; tomorrow at nine he's leaving. You have got to get the knife, process the evidence - his prints should be all over it- and convict him before he runs. Please, Sara..." She could hear her tears through the phone. "I don't want him to take me anywhere, but if he runs I have no choice. Please."  
  
"Just tell me where the knife is, Michelle, and I promise I'll do everything I can," Sara said, and caught Grissom's head shooting up out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Michelle took a deep breath. "It's in the office. Right behind Leah's desk there's a rug. Underneath the exact middle of the rug, you'll find a loose board. Pull up on the loose board, dig around a little with your hand, and you'll find it." She exhaled roughly. "Please, just..." She stopped.  
  
"Just what?" Sara asked, then listened to the hushed whisper on the other end of the line.  
  
"Damn it, he's coming," Michelle said. "I thought he was asleep but he's coming down the stairs. I've got to go-"  
  
She hung up. Sara took a deep breath and hung up as well, then turned to Grissom with two raised eyebrows. "We've got to go back to the crime scene, Gris. We missed some evidence."  
  
He took his jacket and followed her out the door, not even bothering to ask any questions.  
  
The knife was exactly where Michelle had said it would be, underneath a loose floor board, hidden by a large blue rug. Sara knew Grissom had been skeptical as to whether or not Michelle had been telling the truth, but she had not.  
  
It took Sara all that day, all that night, and part of the morning to process the blood and fingerprints on the knife. The fingerprints were easy; she just dusted, then gave it to the computer to search for a match to Harry. When it found one, she went straight to the next stage of the processing. And when Greg reported to her that the blood was Leah's, she started to sob without shame. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face with two gloved hands.  
  
"Thanks Greg," Grissom said for her, and put a hand on the small of her back, leading her out the door. Once out in the hallway, he got on his cell phone. "Brass," he said simply, walking to the door and motioning for Sara to follow. "Get your team together. We've got a murderer who's going to try and run in about half of an hour." His eyes locked with hers. "Here's the address..." 


	7. One Day Closer To You

I Forgot To Tell You Chapter Eight  
  
Thanks: To my lovely betas, Z-Heidi, Meg, Amber, Tash, Allison, etc. You guys rock. And to everyone for waiting so long for this chapter!! Sorry you guys! Author's Notes: I don't really have anything to say about this chapter except, "Sorry!"  
  
  
  
Sara Sidle was a brilliant crime scene investigator. She could spot the tiniest piece of evidence with the naked eye, process it in record time, go home for a three-hour long nap and then come back to work. She never needed much motivation to do the right thing when it came to her job, because she loved it and nothing had prompted her to even come close to messing up something she was this obsessed with. Until now.  
  
A few minutes earlier, Grissom had put a hand on her arm and looked her straight in the eye. "Brass and his team are going over to Michelle's house. They're going to arrest Harry, and everything is going to be fine," he'd reassured her.  
  
She'd only nodded, lost in thought. "Where are you going?" she'd asked him, knowing by the quick way in which he moved around that he was headed somewhere. He had looked at her, clearly not wanting to answer.  
  
"I'm, uh... going with Brass." He'd seemed to know exactly how she was going to respond.  
  
"Well then I am, too." She had grabbed her jacket before he could blink twice.  
  
"No, you're not." His expression had spoken volumes. "It's too dangerous."  
  
She'd known exactly why he wasn't really letting her come. "Grissom, my personal involvement with this case is not going to affect my riding in the car beside you while you chase down a criminal." Her tone had been frustrated, angry almost, and he'd sighed.  
  
"I know that, Sara. But I'd really rather you stay here. I'll call you as soon as we get him. I'm not even going to assist in the arrest. I'm just going to follow Brass and watch."  
  
"Why?" she had asked. "You usually hate that kind of stuff. Why do you need to see it this time?" She really had been curious.  
  
He'd shifted his eyes, knowing he couldn't lie to her. Moving in closer, he'd brushed the tip of his finger across the outline of her jaw. "Because I hate this guy, and my hatred leaves me with the strange sensation of wanting to see him get cuffed," he'd explained. "Please, Sara. Just stay here. Don't follow me, don't go anywhere. Just stay here. I promise I'll call you when we get him." So now here she sat, in a chair at the table in the break room. Wanting to defy him, wanting to hop into her car and race after them. Wanting to do something, anything but sit here and feel useless.  
  
She moved around the lab slowly, waving to Greg in trace, nodding at Warrick who was piecing together the broken glass from a window, smiling at a frowning Catherine as she puzzled over a missing person's report. Finally, before she freaked out the whole building, she walked to her car and started the engine. She told herself that if she simply went over to see how Michelle was doing, that it wouldn't exactly be breaking the rules.  
  
She parked her car on the side of the road and noted with satisfaction that Harry's beat-up old Chevette was gone. Surprised, she realized her hands were shaking. She cleared her throat and made her way up to the front door, knocking loudly. When she didn't get an answer, she turned the doorknob and let herself in, knowing Michelle would probably be upset.  
  
"Michelle?"  
  
The tiny home smelled damp and musty as Sara entered and walked around the front foyer calling her friend's name. No answer. The silence seemed out of place, unusual. She kept thinking she should be hearing sobbing in the background.  
  
Feeling like an intruder, she slowly entered the kitchen and looked around. Nothing was out place, and it looked exactly like it had when Sara had visited a couple days ago. The mug she had drank her coffee out of was hanging on the rack above the sink. The room was cold and empty, so she left and walked down the hallway, checking room after empty room.  
  
After she was sure the downstairs was uninhabited, she slowly crept up the stairwell, listening as her footsteps made quiet creaking sounds. She was careful not to touch the banister, not to touch anything.  
  
Making her way into the first room that she thought might include Michelle, she found herself staring at a master bedroom, and then...  
  
"Oh," she gasped, a hand over her mouth. Her fingers trembled as unguarded tears spilled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned away from the scene in front of her.  
  
Michelle lay dead on the floor. In a scene so much like the one involving Leah, her stomach was a bloody mess. Her eyes stared at Sara, open and terrified.  
  
Sara was bawling by now, the violent sobs shaking her shoulders as she swiped furiously at her cheeks. She knew she couldn't touch Michelle, but the sight of her friend lying dead on the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom was enough to make her want to scream. She belonged somewhere so much more beautiful.  
  
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Harry had killed her, the bastard. She should call Grissom, tell him. Find out whether or not they had caught Harry yet, then beg him to come over and stay at the house with her because she wasn't leaving until the coroner came and pronounced Michelle dead, but she was terrified of being alone.  
  
Calling the police wasn't necessary; as soon as she called Grissom, he would do the honours. Taking her cell phone out of her pocket, she dialed his number and tried to lower the emotion level in her voice. She could barely breathe. Turning away from the sight of Michelle's blank and pale face, she waited as his phone rang.  
  
"Grissom," he answered, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.  
  
"It's Sara."  
  
"Sara, I told you I'd call you as soon as we got him. At the moment we're still trying to catch up, now stop worrying and go home and sleep." His voice was more stern than it had been at the lab. She started to cry all over again.  
  
"No, Grissom, listen." She took a deep breath. "I'm at Michelle's house. She's-" A movement by the doorway to the bedroom caught her eyes. The unmistakable knot of fear caused her to stop talking, and she half- listened to Grissom's confusion through the cell phone. A black shoe showed itself by the wooden doorframe and she gasped, no longer able to breathe. Her cell phone dropped to the ground as his full form became visible.  
  
  
  
"Sara?" he said again, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Sara, are you there?" There was still no answer, so he turned into the nearest driveway, backed out, and began to drive in the opposite direction, towards Michelle's house.  
  
After he had been driving for about five minutes, his cell phone rang and he picked it up immediately. "Sara, I'm so glad you called me back. What happened?"  
  
"Grissom, it's me." Brass's voice sounded out through the phone. Damn. "Listen, I've got some bad news."  
  
"What is it?" he asked, waiting for the worst.  
  
"The guy in Harry Lot's car wasn't Harry Lot." He really didn't waste time, Grissom thought. When he didn't speak, Brass continued. "It was his friend Jerry Ramano, pretending to be Harry Lot so Harry Lot could get away."  
  
"Stop saying 'Harry Lot'," Grissom said, frowning, "And tell me what's going on here. The car we've been chasing for over thirty minutes doesn't actually contain our murderer?"  
  
"No." Brass' voice was blunt, satisfied that Grissom finally understood. "What the friend says happened is Harry overheard his wife telling what he thought to be the police last night that he was planning on running, so he called up his good old friend Jerry and asked him for a favour: to hop in the car at 9 AM this morning and drive off as soon as he saw us coming. Naturally, we'd assume the guy was Harry, chase him, and give the real Harry a nice, long chance of getting away."  
  
"Wait a minute, you're telling me Harry Lot is still in his house?" The world suddenly became slower and played in black and white.  
  
"Well, probably not anymore, but he was certainly there longer than we thought he was."  
  
"OK, thanks Brass, I'm headed over there right now. Bye." He hung up his cell phone, pushed on the gas pedal, and repeated the same prayer over and over in his mind as he drove.  
  
Please God, let her be OK. 


	8. The End of the Beginning

I Forgot To Tell You Chapter Nine by Marita Linde/SinginSista  
  
Thanks: Whoo! Thanks to all you betas again!! Notes: Second-to-last chapter. I'm kind of excited about how this chapter ends up. I know no one else really cares, but I do. G  
  
  
  
Grissom didn't think he had ever driven so fast. Once his senses had cleared, he had called Brass and told him he needed backup, that as soon as they were done arresting this Romano guy he wanted them at the Lot house, ready to arrest Harry. He wouldn't let the thought that was in the back of his mind seep to the front. What if Harry had murdered more than two women by now?  
  
The world around him was still playing in slow motion. A soft thumping sounded from behind his eyes, and he realized sleepily that it was the blood pounding through his head. He passed a red Honda, two blue Cavaliers, and a white Chevette.  
  
He saw Brass' car in the rearview mirror and barely heard his cell phone ring. Brass told him he'd be right behind him, that he'd go with Grissom to the Lot residence to see if Harry was still there. One of the squad cars had gone back to the police station to put Harry's accomplice behind bars. In what seemed like a dream, Grissom heard Brass whisper through the phone, "One down, one to go."  
  
After what seemed like hours, he arrived at the Lot residence, the cool grey of the house shining out at him, blinding him with its light. Brass had gotten caught behind a red light but Grissom knew somehow that he close by, that he'd be here soon. He squinted out of fear or something else, pulled into the driveway, and, stumbling on his way, finally made it to the door.  
  
He pulled his gun out. Even as scared as he was, he wasn't stupid. His own life didn't matter now, it was all about Sara, about making sure she was OK. He knew there wasn't any time to waste now, Harry could have already killed her, and this wasn't the time to reprimand himself for possibly over-exaggerating.  
  
  
  
She felt a thump against her skull. Oddly, it was painless at first, until she regained consciousness and was faced with the ugly expression of Harry Lot looming in front of her. He had his hands planted firmly on her shoulders and had smashed her head against the wall behind her...  
  
The aching pain took her breath away, and she realized with horrified fear that he was going to knee her in the stomach again. He kept saying the same thing over and over again, but it was inaudible to her. The edges of her mind were fuzzy and she found she was having a hard time standing up.  
  
The light in the room dimmed as her consciousness began to fade away once again, and then a loud shot rang through the air and her attacker jerked back with extreme ferocity, crying out in pain.  
  
  
  
He shot him in the arm. He didn't know why; he had a clear shot of his back and he could have killed him, but he shot him in the arm. Harry bent over and grabbed his elbow, the expression on his face showing the amount of pain the shot from Grissom's gun had inflicted upon him.  
  
Before he could say or do anything else, Brass came into the house from behind him and immediately began to arrest Harry. Only half-listening to the world around him, Grissom walked up to Sara at what could be considered a quick pace, bending down to put two fingers against her neck.  
  
"She's alive," he stated simply, maybe for Brass to hear, maybe for himself to hear. He realized then that she was breathing, the shallow breaths causing her chest to slightly rise and fall. He thanked God, then got out his cell phone and immediately dialed 911. Brass looked at him sympathetically while leading a wincing Harry out the door.  
  
Sara was laying down on the ground, her face turned to the side, revealing an ugly slash that was bleeding profusely. His eyes scanned down the rest of her body. Her shirt was ripped in several places, revealing either ugly bruises or bright red slashes, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that none of her clothing was removed, ruling out the possibility of rape. Just below her knee was a bloody mess of ripped skin and ligaments. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, but looking around, he saw nothing to wrap the wound in. His mind was racing, tears were forming in his eyes. Looking at her face, he saw the consequence of every mistake he had ever made with her.  
  
Just then, the door opened and Ecklie walked in. "Morning Gil," he said amiably, casting a horrified glance at the battered body of Sara lying beside the bed.  
  
"You got here awful fast, Conrad," Grissom said, clearing his throat to rid his voice of tears.  
  
"Only as fast as I always do. Brass called me about twenty minutes ago and told me about Michelle, but Sara..." His eyes betrayed the fact that he didn't know about what had happened. Casting his eyes to the floor, he moved to the dead body of Michelle and began to process the scene almost immediately. "I know I don't have to ask you this, Gil, but you didn't touch anything, did you?"  
  
Grissom only shook his head, stroking Sara's cheek as he watched her breathing. "Just her." On a look from Ecklie, he elaborated, "Sara, I mean."  
  
Ecklie nodded, dusting the contents of the bedside table for fingerprints. "The ambulance will be here soon, Gil." Glancing at Sara's open leg wound, he frowned. "Haven't you got anything to wrap that up with?"  
  
"No, and I'm not going to contaminate the scene by taking something from here." He motioned to the space around them. He thought for a second, then from behind his shoulder Grissom saw the striped overshirt Ecklie had been wearing only seconds before.  
  
"Use this. I was hot, anyway," Ecklie said, and offered a tiny smile. Grissom just nodded, dumbfounded, and proceeded to wrap her leg tightly with the thin cotton fabric.  
  
The ambulance arrived minutes later, a crew of suited men bursting into the house and immediately attending to Sara. They lifted her onto a cot and rolled her out, a concerned Grissom following them with a frown and a hand on her face.  
  
"She's going to be OK," Grissom stated, not really wanting to hear what they would have to say about that. A young woman smiled at him and nodded.  
  
"She'll be fine, Dr. Grissom. We just have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible and stabilize her condition." Then, looking at the worry lines on his forehead, she added, "Did you want to ride along?"  
  
He didn't answer, just climbed into the back of the ambulance van with Sara's cot and thanked the woman. Sara's face looked abnormally peaceful and calm, and Grissom watched as the paramedics worked on her.  
  
"Why don't you talk to her, Dr. Grissom?" one of them asked. "Sometimes it helps."  
  
Grissom started to say, "I don't think I'd be comfortable..." but instead he stopped and nodded, taking one of her hands in his and clearing his throat. "Hey, Sara."  
  
  
  
"How is she?" Catherine asked immediately when Grissom entered the breakroom later that day.  
  
He smiled slightly, nodded, and said, "She's OK. Not great, but OK. They've put her on so much morphine that she couldn't wake up even if she wanted to." He looked up at her nervous face, shrugged and said, "That's all I can tell you for now Cath." "How bad is the damage? Did he break anything?" Her voice was louder now, more calm.  
  
"Yes. Several things, actually. Two ribs, her left arm and her collarbone."  
  
"Oh God."  
  
"Yeah. I know." He watched as a silent tear slipped down her cheek, but didn't move until she fell against him, sobbing into his shirt. "She'll be OK, Catherine." He didn't believe it himself, but it helped to say it out loud.  
  
Through her tears she spoke, "Do you have any idea how close he came to killing her, Grissom? He killed two other woman in almost the same way. Beating them till they were almost dead and then stabbing them. Sara's lucky you got there when you did, otherwise she'd be dead right now."  
  
He pressed his hands tighter against her back and she shut up. "He didn't beat the others nearly as badly," he stated.  
  
"Why do Sara differently?" Warrick asked, entering the break room with watery eyes and pursed lips. He was fighting off tears.  
  
Grissom tried to shrug in a concerned nature, but it didn't work. "I don't know. Maybe because she ruined his plans, or because she had been trying to protect Michelle before she died... Murderers work in complicated ways."  
  
Catherine had moved to hug Warrick, and they were both standing in the doorway looking at him. "You're going to go see her again soon, right?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Well, yes. But right now I have a trial to go to."  
  
  
  
Harry Lot was found guilty of two counts of third-degree murder and one count of attempted murder. He was sentenced to a life on death row. He would be given the death penalty, and would never see the light of another day. In spite of all this, Grissom was still angry with him and still burned with a hatred for him that consumed every part of his being.  
  
He allowed himself to walk out of the courtroom and get into his car, to drive to the hospital. On the way there, he hummed songs in his head to keep his mind off of why he was going to the hospital, why he felt he constantly needed to be there, why her well-being was the only thing he worried about nowadays.  
  
She wasn't just Sara anymore, he realized with a heavy sigh. She was so much more. So much more than the fresh-faced, nervous college student he had met seven years ago. She had proved herself to be a beautiful, intoxicating woman. He had known a lot of women in his lifetime, but none of them were like Sara. None of them had her power. The power to change him.  
  
  
  
At the hospital, reaching down to stroke her cheek, he realized suddenly that he was crying. Bursting with this new realization, he prayed even harder for her to wake up. If he thought about it too much, he would never have the nerve to tell her. And he needed to tell her.  
  
"Please Sara, wake up." Slowly he took one of her small hands in his larger one. It felt strange to touch her without getting a reaction from her. "Sara," he said again. Still she didn't move. He sighed, sitting down in the chair beside her hospital bed. "This is just like you. You'll wake up when you're ready, not when I'm ready." He thought he saw one of her eyelids flutter, but he was mistaken.  
  
"Dr. Grissom?" He turned to see Sara's doctor in the doorway. "You're going to be in for a long wait. That morphine won't wear off for another couple of hours."  
  
"I'll wait," he said.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Yeah," Grissom said, sighing. He stroked her knuckles with his index finger. "I'm sure." 


	9. One Year

I Forgot To Tell You Chapter Ten-Completion  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Wow. The end of a very long learning experience. Thanks: To each and every supporter there's been along the way! Meg, for taking the time to beta my stuff even when you didn't have the time (if that makes sense). Amber, for rocking, Allison, for reading my stuff through, Tash, Z-Heidi, Adina, Devanie, Andi, and anyone else who's listened to me jabbering on endlessly about this fan fic. I really had quite a time writing it. Ah, but all fun things must come to an end.  
  
  
  
The sun rose in the sky that day as usual, a glowing ball of swirling colours, turning on the world with its light. Cars and houses and streets were slowly illuminated as night turned to day. Cold dampness was soaked up by the scorching heat of another morning in Las Vegas, and slowly movement began in the city.  
  
Sara exited her apartment building and squinted as the sun hit her eyes. She took off the jacket she wore and flung it over her arm, realizing that she didn't need it, and made her way to the supermarket. She kept her eyes on the ground as she walked, watching her feet shuffle across the grey cement of the sidewalk.  
  
She was up way too early, she knew. Four hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough, but it wasn't much less than what was normal for her, so she wasn't terribly tired. Grissom had told her to act as if today was just another day, and that's exactly what she intended to do.  
  
Pushing open the door of the small grocery store, she surveyed her surroundings with a shadow in her eyes. The regular cashiers were there, waiting to serve her, and she forced a smile as one of them walked up to her.  
  
"Hey Sara. What can I do for you today?"  
  
She didn't know whether or not it was a good thing that they knew her by name. She shook her head at him, noticing how his green apron was dirty already, even at this hour. "I'm fine, David. I just came to get a newspaper." He motioned toward the stack of newspapers as if she didn't already know where they were, and she gave him her second forced smile of the day. "Thanks."  
  
She found a copy of a paper she actually liked, paid for it, and made her way out of the store as if that had been all she had intended to buy when she entered. The grocery list in her pocket was forgotten. She just needed to get out of there, away from the smell of the food she couldn't eat on a day like this. Trying desperately to shake herself of the sadness that clung to her, she added a bounce to her step. That didn't help, so she stopped walking altogether and just watched the world around her.  
  
There wasn't a cloud in sight as she stared at the sky. Bright, golden flashes of light shone down and made dancing patterns on the ground. The crisp freshness of the air made her inhale deeply and close her eyes, loving the feel of the warm oxygen as it filled her lungs.  
  
"Beautiful sky today," she heard from behind her. She recognized his voice instantly.  
  
She turned to face him and offered a small smile. "You couldn't sleep, either?"  
  
Grissom shook his head, watching her carefully. "You look better than I thought you would," he commented softly.  
  
"I try."  
  
He put a hand on her waist, guiding her off of the busy sidewalk and into the front of a small coffee shop. She had been too busy staring at the concerned look on his face to pay attention to how much busier the streets had gotten in the past few minutes.  
  
"I'm sorry that today means what it does," he said, putting a hand on her face and rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone.  
  
"You told me that already before I left for work this morning." She caught the sympathy in his eyes and softened her tone. "I know you are. I'm sorry, too." She looked at him closer. "I didn't think it was going to be this hard."  
  
"Neither did I," he commented, pulling her closer to him and putting his forehead against hers. His breath was warm and smelled like the air around them. She wrapped her arms around him and put her head against his shoulder. He inhaled deeply and smoothed down her hair.  
  
"I loved her," Sara breathed into him. "I really did."  
  
"I know," he whispered. "It doesn't seem right to think it's been a year without her."  
  
She just murmured into the softness of his cotton shirt, rubbing her cheek into it and letting the tears fall slowly, painfully, until there were none left to cry.  
  
"Sara, I love you," he said huskily. "And I am so sorry about Michelle."  
  
She pulled at the back of his sweater, bunching it in her hands. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry, too. But Harry got what he deserved."  
  
"It doesn't feel like it was enough. Why does it never feel like it's enough?" he asked.  
  
She shrugged, pulling herself away from him and making eye contact. "It's time to let it go, Grissom," she said, and began to cry again. "I really wish I could let it go."  
  
Noticing the stares they were getting from the few other people in the coffee shop, he grabbed her hand and lead her outside to his car, opening the door for her and watching her as she climbed in. "I'm driving you home," he said simply, leaning on the open car door, "I'll make you some breakfast at my house and we can talk some more."  
  
She smiled softly, resting her head against the seat. "I don't know if I can eat."  
  
He closed the door and walked over to the other side of the car, getting into the driver's seat and starting up the engine. She put a hand on his arm and looked him in the eye.  
  
"Thanks, Gil."  
  
"For what?" he asked, slightly confused.  
  
"For just...being here when I needed you. Being here today." She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you so much."  
  
"You're welcome," he said softly, and maneuvered the car onto the busy Las Vegas street. 


	10. two

I Forget To Tell You Chapter Two By Marita Linde

Author's Notes: Well, I never thought that this story would actually get as far as the second chapter, but here I am so I guess I was wrong. No explanation for this needed, really, except that Michelle, Leah, Jeff, Harry, Michael, and Anetta are my own creations. Heh. So there. sticks out tongue at TPTB Thanks: Thanks to all my betas, Amber, Tash, Allison (the reverend), Meg, Z-Heidi, and to the whole G/S list for reading this before I posted it on ff.n. Enjoy.

Sara stepped out of her apartment building, marveling at the way the mist from the early-  
morning temperature had gathered on the road. She inhaled deeply, letting the sweet smell fill her nose, and smiled. Lifting her head, she saw him waiting and grinned.

Grissom began walking towards her, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on her. His form seemed to be surrounded by an odd sort of haze, white and misty. All she could see clearly was him, everything else around them had disappeared. They met at the traffic lights and stood inches away from each other. He was the first to speak.

"I came to say we can't go to coffee with Michelle." He was smiling slightly, and she decided he didn't do it nearly enough.

"Because she's a suspect, right?" He gave a nod of affirmation. "Why didn't you just call?" She stared at the air around them, their two forms taking up space on the white sidewalk. Her words came out sounding too harsh, so she smiled to ease the tension.

He shrugged, offering her his arm. "I thought we could go together." She stared at him, but took his arm in hers. "You look nice." In nervousness, she straightened out her jean skirt.

Somewhere inside she sighed at the way his grey curls ruffled around his head in an almost childlike halo. "Thanks." She wished she could reach out and run her fingers through his hair. Instead she pretended to be interested in the whiteness of her nails against the darker skin on his arm.

The smell of coffee wafted through the door as they walked into the little shop, and Sara breathed it in and seated herself at the table beside the window. Grissom sat across from her, never taking his eyes off of her face. "So it was a shock to see Michelle after all these years, huh?" She reasoned to herself that it wasn't such a pathetic attempt at starting a conversation.

"Yes." Grissom replied shortly, staring at his surroundings in some odd form of fascination. "I'm sure you're anxious to talk with her again."

Sara looked at him. "No. Actually, I'm a little afraid to."

"Well, the interrogation's tomorrow."

"Did she look thinner to you? She looked a lot thinner to me. Too thin." Grissom watched her for a few seconds before giving his breathy reply.

"She looked the same as she always did, Sara."

She sighed. "I thought maybe I was imagining it." Looking down at her hands resting on the table, her breath caught in her throat. "I missed having her around so much."

Grissom leaned forward. "Sara, you know I care about Michelle as much as you do." Her eyes caught fire suddenly and she stood up.  
"I need to use the restroom." The sight of her form disappearing through the bathroom door made him more than a little frustrated. He ordered a large coffee and sat silently, waiting for her to come back.

Sara walked into the large classroom, her books tightly pressed to her chest and her eyes darting from object to object. Her surroundings were similar to the ones she had been exposed to every day now for a long time, but more strange because she didn't know anyone in the room. Nervously, she started to make her way to a desk sitting at the back.

She caught sight of him, then, standing at the front, dressed casually in black and writing something on the chalkboard. Her stare caused him to turn towards her and smile. She didn't dare to smile back.

Once again she made her way to the seat, but tripped on her way there. Sighing, she watched as her books and a few papers fell to the ground. She bent down to pick them up, trying to ignore the eyes she knew were looking at her.

He was by her side instantly, helping her pick up the dropped objects and staring at her intently. Her breath began to come in short gasps as their hands touched briefly. "I'm such a klutz." It was all she could think of saying. He shook his head.

"Happens to everyone." She had just gotten lost in his eyes when a voice sounded behind her.

"Sara? You said you'd wait for me in the dorm." Sara turned around to see Michelle's face frowning at her. "Now you've gone and met the teacher without me." Michelle reached out her hand to shake Dr. Grissom's, and before Sara could think twice, he was lost in conversation with her best friend.

Sara shook her head free of the memory as she and Grissom made their way into the interrogation room. Michelle was sitting, wearing a blue tank top and attempting a nervous smile. They joined her at the table, never taking their eyes off of her.

"Hey." She said simply. Sara and Gil both just nodded. "I didn't kill Leah." Her words cut through the tension in the room like a knife. Grissom leaned back in his chair and surveyed her carefully. "I told you, I came to work and found her dead behind my desk."

"We were looking at your punch card." Sara slid the aforementioned object across the table. "It says here you punched in half an hour early every morning for the past three weeks. But yesterday morning, the morning Leah died, you decided to come in an hour early." Her eyes held Michelle's. "Is there any reason for that?"

"I had extra work to do." Michelle replied. "Besides, that doesn't prove anything."

"Well, Leah died at approximately 6 AM. You punched in at 6 AM. It means you were there." Grissom said, watching as the woman sitting across the table from him grew more and more agitated.

"Sara... you don't really think I killed Leah, do you?" The two CSI's stared at the friend they once knew, not knowing what they thought, or should think, only that all the evidence they had collected so far was pointing towards Michelle.  
"Michelle, you said you punched in, then went straight to the office and saw Leah, right?" Michelle nodded. "Then why did you call the police thirty minutes after you punched in?"

"I was scared. I wanted to make sure the killer wasn't still in the office. So I searched it. And I was shocked, I... I didn't know what to think when I saw her lying there." Her eyes darted around the room, landing on Sara's slouched form. "Please Sara, you've got to believe me, I didn't kill anyone. You know me better than this. We're best friends, remember?"

Sara's expression didn't change. "The last time I saw you was five years ago. You were with the man I loved in a situation that leaves little room for explanation. At the time, I didn't know what to think of you. And I still don't. I'm not here to catch up on lost memories, Michelle. I'm here to investigate a crime. A crime that is starting to look like one you committed. So don't expect any pity from me. I only believe the evidence."

Her hair bounced as she whipped around and rushed out the door, slamming it behind her. It only took three seconds for Grissom to stand up and follow her.


End file.
